Beor's Passing
by lady ix
Summary: One shot. What happens when the elves of Nargothrond encounter death for the first time? Not as morbid as it sounds, I swear!


Disclaimer: Bëor and Felagund belong to Tolkien, I promise to put them back where I found them when I finish playing. And of course, the Hedgehog song belongs to P.Terry. All hail Pratchett!

A/N: Just a quick little one shot, an attempt to make light at a rather serious subject. Before anyone gets on my case, Dimdíriel is quite literally "sad-gaze" in Sindarian, and anyone who wants to argue, can look up both elements in _The Languages of Tolkien's Middle-earth_ so ha! It might not be the best name ever, but it sure as hell isn't the worst! And yes, Felagund is a bit ditzy in this, sorry if it offends anyone, but even the Noldor should be allowed to be silly sometimes.

"…but at last Bëor the Old died…of no wound or grief, but stricken by age, the Eldar saw for the first time the swift waning of the life of Men, and the death of weariness which they knew not in themselves…and the Eldar wondered much at the strange fate of Men, for in all their lore there was no account of it, and its end was hidden from them." The Silmarillion pg 149.

Finrod Felagund, Nóm the Wise, Lord of Nargothrond and son of Finarfin sat down to breakfast. He was halfway through his second egg (over easy) when he noticed something amiss in his underground kingdom. Finally, after staring hard at his eggs for a good five minutes, he figured it out. The mumbles and groans that usually accompanied Bëor before he had his morning coffee—that horrible brew he insisted was traditional and vital to his morning well being—were missing. The Lord of Caves looked around his table and sure enough, the familiar grizzled figure of Bëor was nowhere to be found.

"Hmm. It's not like him to miss meals, even breakfast," turning to a slender, brown headed Morquendi on his right, he said, "Come with me, Dimdíriel, we're going to find Bëor."

"Why bother? The air in here is fairer without his presence," replied Dimdíriel

"Stop whining and come on," Finrod said as he marched out of the dining hall, dragging the unfortunate Dimdíriel with him.

After only a few minutes of traversing Nargothrond's smooth tunnels the pair arrived at the door to Bëor's chambers. Without knocking (he was king, after all) Felagund burst into Bëor's room, Dimdíriel followed more slowly, picking his way over the piles of clothes strewn about the floor.

"Does he always sleep like that," asked Dimdíriel, looking at the old man lying peacefully on his bed, his arms crossed atop his chest and his sword at his feet.

"No, it's usually much noisier. If Morgoth really wanted to find us, all he'd have to do is follow the sound of Bëor's snoring."

"Something doesn't look quite right. Poke him," suggested Dimdíriel.

"I'm not going to poke him! You do it," said an insulted Finrod

"Why me?"

"Because I'm the king and it's undignified for royalty to go around poking people. Besides, I said so," retorted Felagund.

"All right, if I must," Dimdíriel said with a heavy sigh. He bent down and picked up the gnarled yew branch Bëor used for a cane and after shaking an old pair of underwear off one end, poked him with it. Nothing happened.

"Poke him harder," ordered Felagund

Rolling his eyes, Dimdíriel complied. "Nothing. I don't think he's in there."

"What do you mean? That's his body isn't it? Where else would he be?" asked Finrod, sincerely perplexed.

Dimdíriel reached over and gingerly felt Bëor's head. "He's awfully cool. And I don't think he's breathing."

"I don't get it. He can't be dead, he doesn't look wounded, and who could he be grieving over. I can't imagine him being in love with anyone. Maybe with his ale mug, but one can hardly die of unrequited love from an ale mug. Can one?"

"May haps, men don't work like that," suggested Dimdíriel.

"How else would they work?"

"I don't know, but you better do something with him quickly. He's starting to smell worse than usual."

"Damn," said Finrod, "Now I'll never know how that song ends."

"What song?"

"Something about a hedgehog," replied Finrod, "Catchy little ditty that Bëor was teaching me."

"You're going to have to come up with something better than that for the eulogy."


End file.
